


Trembling

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, Secret Crush, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:22:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14368830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: The minute Negan walked out Carl knew he was screwed. He had a thing for power and a thing for men twice his age. Negans leather caught in the moonlight and the barbed wire on his bat was tempting. Carl liked the bat. It was smart, creative. Part of him wanted to rip it from Negans grip and kill something with it. It didn't even have to be a zombie. It just had to be something living. That's when Carl knew something was really wrong. His old crushes would bring blushing cheeks and butterflies in his stomach. This one, though, this one brought out a dark hunger Carl had fought to contain.





	Trembling

Carl had always had a thing for older men. It started out innocent with Shane. The man protected his mom and him when the world went to shit. He was strong and smart and he adored Carl. He couldn't help it that he had a crush on Shane. He wanted to impress him and seem strong, so he did almost everything Shane did. He learned how to use a gun and how to fight, all in the name of impressing Shane.

His next crush was Daryl. Daryl was more closed off than Shane, which Carl didn't even know was possible. He was stronger than Shane and much more smart. Daryl knew how to hunt and to fight and he was more loyal than words could describe. When Carls mom died Daryl was there. Hugging him even though Daryl despised hugs. He even taught Carl how to use his crossbow. Daryl was one of the most handsome men Carl had ever seen. 

Next was Glenn. Glenn wasn't like Shane or Daryl. He was sweeter. Whenever Carl was sad Glenn would check on him. He was caring and kind and he would always look out for Carl. While the others taught Carl out to survive the fight, Glenn taught Carl how to cope with it. That it was okay to be mad and to be frustrated and scared. A few times Carl even slipped into the bed beside Glenn, when Maggie was gone. He was always a little jealous of her. 

Jesus was the first man Carl had a chance with. Carl was seventeen, barely eighteen, and Jesus was young and gay. Carl tried his best to flirt. Follow him around and ask him about things Carl really didn't care about, but it was nice to hear Jesus talk. Jesus reminded Carl of Glenn. He taught Carl that killing didn't have to be the way. That you could be kind and spare lives but still be strong and in control. 

Those crushes made sense. They were men that protected Carl and helped raise him when Rick was gone or hurt or busy making sure their entire group didn't get murdered. But this crush, this crush was sick, it made Carl feel sick. Ever since he first laid eyes on this man he was angry. It wasn't soft and shy like it was with Daryl and Shane. It wasn't sweaty palms and blushing cheeks like it was with Glenn and Jesus. This crush wasn't a cute little thing. It was deadly and Carl hated himself for it. 

The minute Negan walked out Carl knew he was screwed. He had a thing for power and a thing for men twice his age. Negans leather caught in the moonlight and the barbed wire on his bat was tempting. Carl liked the bat. It was smart, creative. Part of him wanted to rip it from Negans grip and kill something with it. It didn't even have to be a zombie. It just had to be something living. That's when Carl knew something was really wrong. His old crushes would bring blushing cheeks and butterflies in his stomach. This one, though, this one brought out a dark hunger Carl had fought to contain. 

The way he walked, looking down at everyone as if he was better than them. The way he spoke, dragging out words in his delicious deep voice. Carl couldn't help but stare, Negan didn't seem to mind it, though. The man ate up attention, positive or negative. He loved control, knowing everyone feared him. Part of Carl wondered what it would be like to have that control. To know what its like to have everyone on their knees in front of him. Shaking. Begging. It sounded kind of amazing. His father was never the leader, not like this. 

Carl was trembling, nails digging into the denim that covered his thighs. As Negan spoke Carl watched him. He studied the way he walked, the way he carried his bat, and the way be faced only the men as he spoke. Threats poured out of his mouth and Carl could feel the darkness creeping out of him. The urge to have power. The want to control. The idea of killing for punishment. Rick was always too nice to do it, but ever since Carl was a kid he wanted to kill. Ever since his dad hid that evil man in the barn. Some things couldn't be fixed without death, no matter how many times Jesus had told him different. 

Licking his lips, Carl fell back on his heels, still studying the man. He made his way towards Carl, smirking. He waved the bat in front of Carls face. Instead of planning his escape, though, Carls fingers itched to reach out and touch it. To slid his fingers across the smooth wood and trace the rows of barbed wire that curved around the bat. Negan began to speak, kneeling down in front of Carl. He could feel the eyes of his friends, of his father, watching him now. He couldn't give in. Not yet. Carl stared at him with a blank expression. His nerves screamed. 

"You got one of our guns." He leaned closer. Carl wanted to beat him until he was bleeding when lick up the blood. "You got a lot of our guns." Carl could smell his cologne, all he could think about was being close enough to the man that he smelled that way. He wanted the man to hold him down and fuck him until his scent was all over Carl. Drug store cologne and blood. He smiled. "Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little." He chuckled before standing up and walking away. 

He peeled up the bottom of his leather jacket for a moment and Carl could feel his mouth watering. The hem of his white shirt hung right across the waistband of his jeans. Tan skin stood out against the white of his shirt and the darkness of his jeans. Part of Carl wondered what he would look like covered in blood. Another part of him replied. He wouldn't be waiting long to find out. 

"This your kid, right?" Negan turned his attention away from Maggie and back to Carl. "Oh..." It sounded like he was moaning. Carl dug his nails in deeper. "This is definitely your kid..." He walked towards Carl, his boots dragging across the ground. 

"Just stop this!" Rick screamed, slamming his hands down on the gravel. His face was red, eyes bloodshot and lips chapped. He wasn't going to handle this well. He was already crying. Carl hoped Rick didn't notice how Carl wasn't crying. He didn't need his dad to find out that he was just like the man about to kill them. 

"Hey!" Negan shouted. He was focused on Rick now. Part of Carl was jealous. "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer." Carl wanted to cry. He was already a killer. He had already killed one person. If this man tempted him anymore the number was about to go up. "Don't make it easy on me." He licked his lips. "I gotta pick somebody..." Carl wanted to kiss him. 

By the time Negan came back to Carl his knees were burning. Sharp pieces of gravel were digging into his limbs. His legs ached. But not once did Carl get up. He watched Negan. He watched him when he beat Abraham to death. He watched him when he beat Glenn. He watched when Negan drug his dad away and he watched when Negan taunted them all. All of them were crying still. Carl felt broken. Numb. If anyone asked he planned on saying it was shock, that's why he didn't break down. 

"Kid..." His voice was dripping in danger. "Right here..." Carl didn't move. "Kid." His voice was demanding. Carl was sure that if he stood up his legs would be shaking. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe people would think he was terrified instead of turned on, fearful instead of intrigued. "Now." Carl pushed himself to his feet and walked towards Negan, making sure to stand with his back straight. He had to play the part, just like he always had. Negan undid his belt and pulled it off. Carl could barely manage to think about anything other than that belt being wrapped tightly around his neck. 

"You a southpaw?" Negans tone was different. More light hearted. Pairs of eyes dug into every inch of Carls body, including Negans. Something about his eyes made Carl want to show him everything. It scared him. 

Carl glared at him. "Am I a what?" Negan was wrapping the belt around his arm, pushing it up as far as it could go. 

"A lefty." Negan replied. He didn't tighten the belt. All he did was lay it across Carls arm and wait for Carls reply. It was surprising to Carl that he was asking. That he was giving him a choice. He didn't give anyone else a choice. Carls sick mind twisted the idea into something different. Maybe Negan liked him. 

"No." Carl mumbled, never taking his eyes off Negan. Negan chuckled and started to tighten the belt around Carls arm. Carl didn't move as Negan wrapped it around again, slipping it through the loop. It was tight. The blood flow was cut off leaving his fingers tingling. 

"Good." Negan smiled. "That hurt?" Negan was still messing with the belt, moving it up and down Carls arm, loosening and tightening it. Was he going to be the one cutting Carls arm off? Carl wouldn't mind it, really. It would be a pretty little reminder of the man to came into his life and ripped the darkness out of him with both hands. 

"No." Carl growled. His glare mimicked his father's. That was how Carl learned to glare. His father always shot Shane glares. They began playful, but slowly they turned dark. Angry. Unforgiving. Carl wondered how Negan figured out he liked the pain. The burn of cuts. The sting of slaps. The throbbing of punches. Carl loved pain. What he loved more than pain, though, was blood. Not-so-lucky for him, Lucille was dropping in blood. Carl wanted to lick it clean. 

"Should." It felt like Negan was flirting. "It's supposed to." Negan backed away, looking Carl up and down, chuckling. "Alright, get down on the ground, kid, next to daddy." Negan was hovering over him. "Spread them wings." 

Carl was face down on the ground, hovering over the asphalt. Negan reached down and slammed him into the ground, the pointy rocks jabbing into him all over his body. Carl closed his eye before opening it and looking up at Negan. Carl was thankful that he was laying face down on the ground. He didn't need his daddy to know just how much he liked the pain and the force. Negan didn't need to know either, it seemed like he could already tell how much Carl liked it.


End file.
